Our Life is an Epilogue
by Winnywriter
Summary: LJ charity auction piece. House and Cuddy are married...well, in the eyes of the state of New Jersey, anyway. Cuddy wants him to sign the divorce papers so she can move on with her new boyfriend, but he refuses. And all this is affecting not just them, but Rachel as well. CuddyxOC leading to Huddy.
1. Chapter 1

**Written for a charity auction over on LJ. For liacuddles. :)**

**Last time I checked, I owned nothing. **

**CHAPTER ONE**

As Cuddy approached House's office, it was all she could do to appear calm and collected. On the outside, she maintained her authoritative, confident mask of professionalism; she was everything the Dean of Medicine was supposed to be. On the inside, however, she was a nervous wreck. Her heart pounded out an anxious drum beat in her chest, and it seemed she was wiping her sweaty palms off on her tight pencil skirt every three steps.

All of it was thanks to the manilla envelope in her hands, or, more accurately, it was thanks to what was _inside_ it.

The only thing she needed was a signature.

It was such a little thing: a mark on a piece of paper, but it was all that she needed to make things official. It was the last thing standing between them and the utter finality of legal separation. Such a heavy meaning to put on something so tiny, she thought.

It was in this mindset that she opened he door to his office, letting it close with an ambivalent click before bothering to say a word. By the time she opened her mouth, he was already staring up at her expectantly over his thin-rimmed reading glasses. She ran her fingers across the creased edge of the envelope, thoughtfully biting her lip.

His eyes fell on the parcel in her hands.

"Need your signature," she finally forced out. House sat back and removed his glasses, swiveling in his chair.

"Something tells me _that-_" He pointed his pinky at the envelope. "doesn't have anything to do with work. Or maybe it does, depending on how you look at it."

"Will you just sign it?" Cuddy sighed.

"Well not if you don't ask nicely-"

"_House._" They were barely into the conversation, and things were already going downhill. If she'd known divorce would be this much of a hassle she never would have married him in the first place.

Even as he spoke, though, House reached for the papers, and she handed them to him with a heavy sigh, crossing her arms over her chest as soon as he had the envelope in his grip. She supposed the psychological barrier between them should have given her some kind of superficial comfort, but it did no such thing.

House replaced his reading glasses, took the papers out of the envelope and studied them. It was a lot of dry language, emotionless words that meant nothing to him. He found it hard to care about any of them except for the highlighted X at the bottom that called for his signature. And even that...

"Never thought I'd see the day you mix personal with work," he quipped.

"I'm not mixing," said Cuddy, swaying nervously in place. "It just saves me a trip to your apartment."

"Why do you even care, anyway? Just because we're technically married in the eyes of the state doesn't mean we're together. Why go through all this red tape when moving my stuff out of your house – both literally and metaphorically – would do just fine?"

"I just want to make it official," said Cuddy.

"You said the same thing about marriage in the first place, and look how well that ended."

The words stung. Cuddy pursed her lips and handed him a pen, which he took and twirled slowly between his fingers.

Then he handed the papers back to her. Unsigned.

"You know, I don't really think I'm in the mood."

Cuddy's shoulders went slack. "What the hell are you talking about?" She didn't take the papers from him. They fluttered slightly in his grasp, inches from her. House leaned forward, removing his glasses and tossing them to the side where they landed with a clatter on the glass surface of his desk.

"Give me one good reason why you should even care if we make it official or not," he challenged.

"Are you serious?" she asked, brow furrowed. "Are you just intentionally trying to be difficult?"

"You seem to have forgotten who you're talking to." He nudged her with the papers, and she snatched them from his hand, silently hoping he got a paper cut. She was about two seconds away from stalking out of his office and seething all the way down the hall, but she paused, taking a deep breath. Time for Plan B.

"Look...come over tonight. Have dinner. Let's...talk about this." House quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I make you angry, and your first reaction is to invite me over for dinner? Where was this mindset when we were married?"

"We're still married, House," Cuddy reminded him. "At least until you sign these papers. Will you come or not?"

"All this effort just to get me to put my signature on some damn papers...Why don't you just forge it? I know you're not above that."

"I'm not going to do that, House." He huffed, halfheartedly giving her back the empty manilla envelope clasped between two fingers. She took it gingerly and slid the papers back inside.

"Rich gonna be there?" he asked.

"His name is _Richard_," Cuddy corrected, easily picking up on the bitterness in House's voice as he referenced her boyfriend. "And no. I just want to talk to you. One on one."

"And then make me sign the papers, right?"

"I can't _make _you do anything. Well...nothing pertaining to this anyway." She gestured somewhat awkwardly at the papers in her hands. "But I'm hoping you'll do it of your own free will."

"Not really free will if I'm coerced."

"Which is why I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. Eight-thirty? That way I'll have time to put Rachel to bed."

He sighed.

"Fine," he relented with a shrug. "Not like I'm gonna turn down a free meal." She nodded.

It was a start, at least. The beginning of an end.

* * *

She was chopping carrots for the salad when she felt a pair of slim hands on her stomach. A smile fought its way onto her face. "What time is he getting here?" a smooth, deep voice asked.

Cuddy put down her knife and turned around, kissing Richard chastely on the lips.

"Eight-thirty," she said. She glanced at the clock; it was about eight now. She had to put Rachel down soon. "Thanks for putting up with all this. I know it's not exactly...pleasant."

"Legal practices never are," he said with a sympathetic grin. "I should know."

"Stop acting like you're a lawyer," Cuddy joked.

"Hey, two years of law school under my belt," he reminded her, chuckling warmly. "How much do you have?"

"You were there for two years, and then you dropped out and became a writer. You bum." He ran his hands up and down her waist, smiling.

"I was trying to find myself," he said. Cuddy affectionately grasped his hands and placed them down by his sides.

"Well right now, I'm finding _you _to be in my way. I need to get dinner ready before he gets here." She gently nudged him out of her path and made her way over to the oven where the chicken was still cooking.

"Alright, alright," Richard relented. His arms fell against his sides with an audible thump. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

"I'm sure," said Cuddy. "House and I...need to talk about things alone. We just need a little time to...Well, hopefully by the end of tonight, this will be behind me. Behind us..." Richard grabbed his coat as she spoke, grasping her arm and stealing another kiss before putting it on.

"I'll be back around ten," he said, heading for the door. "Text me if you want me back sooner...or later."

"Okay," Cuddy agreed. She heard a shuffling from behind her and turned around. Rachel peeked around the corner of the kitchen, thumb hovering by her mouth. "Rachel," she called. "Come say goodbye to Richard." Slowly, Rachel shuffled over to them, pressing herself against Cuddy's leg.

"Bye Richard," she mumbled. Richard knelt down to her eye level. He tousled her hair and she winced slightly.

"Bye bye, Rachel," he said with a smile. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Mmkay..." He stood, and after giving one last smile to Cuddy, grabbed his keys and left. Cuddy pressed a hand to Rachel's small shoulder.

"Time to get you to bed," she said, bending down and picking Rachel up off the ground.

"But it's too early!" Rachel complained. She squirmed in her mother's grasp.

"I know it is, but you have play practice tomorrow, remember? You need plenty of rest. Did you practice your lines?"

"Yes..." Rachel mumbled around her finger. Cuddy could discern a lie when she saw one.

"Rachel..."

"But I don't want my tongue to get stuck!" Cuddy raised one eyebrow and stifled a laugh. She put Rachel down and led her to her bedroom.

"What are you talking about?"

"Carrie Terrance said that if I said my lines too much before the play my tongue would get stuck and I would only be able to say them and nothing else for ever and ever." Cuddy fought the urge to roll her eyes as she ushered Rachel into her bedroom and sat her down on the bed, kneeling down to her eye level.

"Well Carrie Terrance is wrong, Bug." She brushed a strand of dark hair out of her daughter's face. "The only thing practicing your lines will do is make you even better. Your tongue's not going to get stuck."

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked sheepishly. Cuddy chuckled.

"I'm sure."

"Sure you're sure?"

"Very sure. Now..." She put on her best serious face and lowered her voice an octave. "Scales the dragon is gonna burn the castle down and there's nothing you can do about it!"

Cuddy practically knew Rachel's whole scene in the upcoming school play by heart herself, she'd helped Rachel practice it so many times. Rachel's two lines were during the scene where the evil dragon Scales descended on the castle of the King and Queen, and the three shining Fairies stood up to him to protect their royal friends.

Rachel had snagged the part of Shining Fairy Number One, and she giggled before saying, "You can't get past us, Scales. We'll use our Fairy powers to banish you!"

Cuddy leaned over to Rachel's right, using a high-pitched voice as she imitated the part of Shining Fairy Number Two: "That's right, evil dragon! You're no match for our Shining Fairy Burst!"

Back to her growling dragon voice: "You fairies really think you can beat me?"

Time for Fairy Number Three's line: "Of course we can beat you! You're just a big meanie!"

Scales took over again: "A big meanie?" She looked over at Rachel expectantly.

"A big green meanie!" she shouted. "Magic Shining Fairy Burst!" She waved her hands extravagantly, and Cuddy fell backwards with a theatrical cry of dragon anguish. Rachel giggled happily.

"See?" Cuddy said, getting up and placing her hands proudly on her daughter's arms. "You're going to make a great Shining Fairy! Now...did you brush your teeth?"

"Yes," Rachel said.

"Good. Now..." She put on her dragon voice again, hiding a smirk. "To bed with you, my Shining Fairy!" Rachel giggled as she got into her bed and snuggled against her stuffed ladybug. Cuddy leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll see you in the morning, Bug."

"G'night, Mommy."

Cuddy smiled, stood and turned off the light on her way out of the room, closing the door softly behind her and leaning against it for one lingering moment. This separation wasn't just affecting her, but her daughter too. Rachel had been a flower girl at their wedding, for goodness' sake, something that House had claimed was overly flamboyant and unnecessary, but she had seen the smile in his eyes as Rachel had stood beside them, picking at the petals in her basket and dropping them one by one until, by the end of the ceremony, there had been a pile of crushed flower petals at her feet.

Rachel missed him.

* * *

She took the chicken out of the oven and put it on the dining room table, and she was just straightening out the place mats when the harsh sound of knuckle on wood cut through the silence, making her jump. Her heart raced, and she drew in a deep breath – _in...out..._ – to try and calm it. The action did little to help, but it was worth the try. At least she could attempt to appear cool and collected when she answered the door.

As it turned out, it ended up feeling like she was less "cool and collected" and more "bothered and exhausted" when Cuddy went to the front door to greet him.

"You're early," she said, glancing at the clock. Only by about ten minutes. But if anything, she'd expected him to be late.

House shrugged. "I figured you'd want me to be punctual when it comes to business affairs."

"You've never really cared about that before."

"Because there are very few business affairs that directly affect my sex life. You gonna let me in?" She ignored his sexual remark and stepped aside to let him inside, shutting the front door behind him with a tired thump and click.

The air in the room was dry, and it made her want to cough.

"I have dinner pretty much ready," she said.

"Starving," he replied. It was such a monotonous conversation for an evening that she thought should have felt much more significant. Like the calm before the storm, it made her uneasy. She couldn't help wondering if there was a typhoon waiting just beyond the horizon.

The thought loomed as she took the salad bowl from the kitchen to the dining room just in time to see House seat himself at the head of the table. She grabbed the manilla envelope – crumpled and creased from her nervous hand wringing – and placed it on the table with expert discretion. House's eyes flickered over to it.

"So," he said. "Dinner first, then divorce?" The words felt unpleasantly barbed in her ears.

"Let's just...talk," she offered as she served herself. Small portions. She wasn't hungry. House, on the other hand, had no qualms about claiming his fair share. He was going to get his evening's worth of a free meal, she supposed.

"Okay. Talk, then dinner, _then_ divorce. I get how you run things."

"House-"

"Cuddy." She pursed her lips.

"You know you have to do this." There it was. Out in the open so soon. She had hoped they would at least eat something before it came to that. But where was the point of being vague? That had never been like them. They had always been blunt, the two of them. It defined their relationship as much as anything else.

"You planning on holding me down and choking me until I do?"

"No," she sighed.

"Good, because I might just be the tiniest bit into that."

She resisted the urge to slam her palm down on the table in annoyance, instead settling for shooting House a half-hearted glare.

"I still don't understand why you're being so difficult about this," she sighed. House took a generous bite of his chicken.

"Who's being difficult?" he asked around his food.

"All I asked you for was your signature, and you-"

"You asked me at work. I would have thought you abhorred mixing professional and personal. I was just following your example."

"Oh, so now that we're not at work, you'll cooperate," Cuddy hissed.

"Sure," House said, but his tone was so bitterly sarcastic that she doubted things would proceed without trouble. "Just answer me something first."

"So I have to play twenty questions before you'll sign the damn papers?"

"Not twenty. Just one."

"Which is?"

"Why?"

It caught her off-guard, and she fumbled it.

Why had she left him? Why had they decided to separate? It seemed obvious to her, and she had thought that the feeling had been at least halfway mutual. It had certainly seemed so when they'd made this choice after barely a year of marriage.

"W...why?" she repeated. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why are you suddenly so keen on getting it in writing?"

She sighed. This again... "I told you, I just want to make it offi-"

"Official, I know. You said before. But why? Why do you care that it's official? Oh, because you're the anal, workaholic type, I bet. But that's not all. If that was all, you would have done it right away, but you're just doing it now. So why?"

"Why does it matter?" she snapped, voice suddenly rising several angry decibels as she slammed her palm against the table, nearly knocking over her plate in the process. "We're not together anymore, House, and we never will be again, so why do you even care?"

"I get it, so when we're together you spend all your time trying to change me, to get me to care _more_, but the moment we're split, you go right back to the opposite. Don't want me to care." Cuddy pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

"Of course I want you to _care,_ House. But it...it doesn't involve you, that's all. It's none of your business why-"

"None of my business," House scoffed. He laughed humorlessly. "You're _divorcing_ me, Cuddy! That's as much of my business as anything else!"

"That's not what I-"

"Not what you meant, sure." He stood up, yelling now. In his eyes, emotions roiled and pulsed that Cuddy couldn't even comprehend: he was angry and exhausted and..._hurt_. Upon recognizing that, Cuddy felt the painful sting of what felt like needles in her chest.

"Did mister pre-law dropout put you up to this?" he asked bitterly. "Try and convince you that he read in a textbook twenty-five years ago that it was time to get the ball rolling?"

"Nobody put me up to this!" Cuddy snapped, now standing too. "Nobody is forcing me into anything! I chose to do this myself!"

"Exactly, yourself. You never even thought about what I wanted-"

"Well I guess I became more like you than I thought!"

"Mommy?"

They both turned toward the small voice from the hall. Rachel stared at them nervously, rubbing her eye. She looked from Cuddy to House and back again, looking confused and anxious.

"Rachel..." Cuddy breathed, leaving House in the dining room and going to her daughter, hoisting the little girl into her arms. "Did we wake you up?" Rachel didn't respond right away; her eyes were still locked on House. He looked away.

"I'm gonna go..." he mumbled, already heading for the door.

"House-"

The front door slammed behind him. The papers remained unsigned on the dining room table.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

As she raised her hand to knock on the door, Cuddy's arms felt heavy and sluggish. She clenched her fist, knuckles slowly bleeding white with the tension in her tendons, and she rapped three times on the wooden surface.

She honestly didn't expect him to answer at all. She expected to have come all this way for nothing. But he surprised her, something she'd forgotten he was capable of after knowing him for so many years. The lock released with a click, and the door opened with a soft creak.

"You didn't come in to work today," she said curtly, stretching her shoulders as if trying to appear taller before him. He cocked his head to one side, half-rolling his eyes thoughtfully.

"Last I checked I was ahead on vacation days," he said.

"You didn't tell me."

"Do I have to inform you of every little detail of my life now? Is that a new company policy? Because I thought I got out of that portion of the contract when we broke up." Cuddy pursed her lips.

"You have a job to do. You have patients. You can't just skip out on work like-"

"We done here?" Her shoulders slumped. He looked tired, she noticed for the first time since he'd answered the door. He had dark bags under his eyes and deep, over-accentuated furrows in his brow. She wondered if he'd slept the night before, because it certainly didn't look like it.

She hadn't, at least.

"No," she said. "Can I come in?" House squinted pseudo-thoughtfully.

"Ehh...I don't think so. So if you're finished checking up on me-" He started to push the door closed, but Cuddy reached out and pressed her hand against it, keeping it open.

"House, just wait a minute," she snapped, then she softened her tone. "I just...about last night...I never meant for it to turn so ugly. I never wanted Rachel to be involved..."

She couldn't help but feel a pang of regret, not just about the dinner, but about their whole situation. Because as hard as it was for them, it was just as hard for Rachel, though in a different way and for different reasons. Cuddy had never wanted to subject her daughter to this. And the worst part was, she felt that no matter what she did, Rachel was going to suffer from what had happened to them.

"Did you come to try and get me to sign those damn papers again?" he groaned, suddenly sounding painfully exhausted. She shrugged, letting her arms fall to her sides with an audible noise.

"I didn't bring them," she said. "This isn't about that...I..." _I wanted to make sure you were alright,_ was left unsaid. Because, she remember sadly, that wasn't her job anymore. She wondered if it ever had been.

"Great," he said. "So you just came over to chew me out for missing one day of work. Fine. Dock my pay if you're going to." Cuddy sighed in exasperation. Would there ever come a day where she didn't find him ludicrously difficult? She doubted it.

"House, will you just listen?" she barked. His hand slipped from the door frame, and he leaned against it expectantly. Cuddy took a breath. "I didn't come here to try and get you to sign those papers, House, but...but you're going to have to eventually?"

"Says who?" House challenged. Cuddy let out an exasperated, humorless laugh.

"Listen to yourself, will you? You sound like a stubborn child!"

"Maybe I should just quit, then." His words caught her off-guard, to say the least. She balked.

"What?"

"I miss a day of work, you come to my apartment. You bring divorce papers to my office. Clearly, it's getting in the way of our working relationship. Might be better for all involved if I just quit."

She stood in his doorway, silent, staring up at him with tired eyes, and suddenly, she had no idea what to say.

"Do you really want to quit?" she asked, trying and failing not to sound...hurt. House hid a sigh, standing his ground.

"Maybe I do," he said, as if he were just realizing it himself.

"Let's just...calm down, House..."

"Calm down? I'm trying to think of a way to make this better for both of us. You're just thinking of yourself-"

"I'm not just thinking of myself," Cuddy defended. "I'm thinking of my daughter too. If you won't do it for me, that's fine. You can harbor a grudge against me for the rest of your life." She didn't want that. Not really. She didn't want House to hate her forever. But she couldn't make this just about her, because it _wasn't _just about her. "Don't think of me. Think of...think of Rachel." House rolled his eyes.

"You're really playing the 'think of the children' card? Using your daughter to try and guilt me into signing the damn thing? Even for you, Cuddy, that's low."

"I'm not trying to guilt you into anything, but you need to consider her. I know you care about her, House, and the longer you drag this out, the more it affects her."

"Then avoid dragging it out in the first place and avoid going through all this legal shit altogether! You're the one who wanted to drown us in paper work!"

"And you're the one who won't give one measly little signature on one piece of paper to end it!" They were both yelling now, probably annoying the neighbors to no small extent.

"You care about Rachel so much?" House spat. "You claim to be such a loving mother? Then do the right thing, Cuddy. Go home to her, and leave me alone."

He slammed the door in her face.

* * *

She half expected to see him packing his things when she went to his office. To her own surprise, he was sitting there just as usual, typing away at something on his computer. Though whether he was actively working on something or merely pretending to be productive remained to be seen. She paused at his door, waiting for him to look up and see her, but he didn't, so she knocked.

"Come in," he called. Did he even realize it was her? His tone sounded cordial, if she didn't know better. Not what she would have expected after what had happened the night before.

"It's me," she said as she entered.

"I can see that," House quipped. "Patient?"

"No."

"Extra clinic duty? Whatever it is you're punishing me for, I swear I didn't do it."

"It's not about work," she finally interjected. He looked up at her expectantly, and she let out a breath. She had to do this; it was in both of their best interests for her to swallow her pride and get it out. "I wanted to...apologize," she said. "For last night..." House shrugged.

"Nothing to apologize for."

She felt a flare of irritation. She didn't think she had anything to apologize for either, but she was trying to get the words out if only to smooth over their situation, so why couldn't he just take the damn apology and move on?

"I just..." she continued, "If you feel that way, then fine...I just thought it needed saying."

"Well thanks for saying it," House said blandly. "That all?" A deep furrow formed between her eyebrows. She approached his desk and leaned on it, commanding his total attention.

"We still need to talk about this," she blurted out.

"You're still on this?" House slouched in his chair and grimaced. "When are you gonna drop this thing?"

"I'm not going to drop it, House!" So soon into their conversation and they were yelling again. Of course. They couldn't have it any other way, could they? "This is important, and we need to talk about it! It would be over much sooner if you'd stop being so stubborn and just sign the damn papers!"

"You want my signature so bad, Cuddy?" House challenged. "Well too bad. I'm not signing that thing. You can either forge my signature or stay bound to me in the eyes God and the state of New Jersey."

"You're just being spiteful," she spat.

"Well isn't that so unlike me?" Cuddy narrowed her eyes. He was testing her; just how much, he couldn't possibly understand. She was seething, hot anger roiling up in her belly.

"I almost forgot why I ended it in the first place," she hissed, straightening up from his desk and striding toward the door. "Thanks for reminding me."

That had gone about as well as expected.

* * *

"Mommy?"

Cuddy started awake to find her daughter curled against her leg on the couch, her wide, inquisitive eyes staring up at her. She sighed tiredly and wrapped her arms around Rachel, rubbing the little girl's back.

"Sweetie...why aren't you in bed?" She glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly eleven o'clock, hours after Rachel's weeknight bedtime. "Did you have a bad dream?" Rachel shook her head.

"I can't sleep."

"Why not?" Rachel shifted and looked down, away from her mother's gaze. Cuddy cupped her daughter's face in her hand, brushing an errant strand of brown hair away. "Are you nervous about the dress rehearsal tomorrow?"

Slowly, sheepishly, Rachel nodded. Cuddy let out a small chuckle. "You know, being nervous before a performance is the mark of a talented actor. It helps you do better."

"I'm gonna forget my lines," Rachel mumbled.

"How many times have you practiced them?"

"A zillion times."

"Somewhere close to that, I'll bet," Cuddy said with a smile. "Now you really think you'd forget them after practicing that much?"

"Carrie Terrance said that if you get really super nervous you can forget things you practiced a lot."

"Does this Carrie Terrance know a lot about acting, then?" Cuddy asked with a mock roll of her eyes.

"I don't know. But she's six months older than me."

"Wow, six months...That's impressive. But you know, just because she's older doesn't mean she knows everything. Otherwise I would know everything in the world, wouldn't I?" Her daughter managed a small giggle. "You're going to do great, Rachel. And tomorrow is the dress rehearsal anyway. It's just another practice."

"But tomorrow we get to wear costumes! It's lots more seriouser."

"Costumes or no, just think of it as one more practice. And besides, the costumes might actually make it easier to remember things. Help you channel your inner fairy!" Cuddy toyed with Rachel's hair, and this time, the girl laughed loudly. She fell silent within a few seconds, and suddenly seemed very thoughtful. Cuddy couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else on her daughter's mind, and she knew it would keep festering until it caused problems if she didn't deal with it.

"Is there something else bothering you?" she asked knowingly. Rachel stayed quiet for several moments before looking up.

"Why was House here?" she asked. It seemed as though the question had been weighing on her little mind ever since she'd seen them fighting. Cuddy wondered, in fact, why it hadn't come up sooner.

"We were talking."

"You looked mad," Rachel said in a small voice. She curled further against Cuddy. "He looked mad too..."

"We weren't mad, baby," Cuddy assured her daughter. "It's just...people look that way sometimes when they're discussing certain things."

"What were you talking about?"

"Grown-up things."

"You mean like taxes?" Cuddy let out a laugh at her daughter's habit of associating everything that had to do with being a grown-up with paying taxes. It didn't seem worth the time to correct her just now.

"Something like that," she said. They fell silent again.

"Mommy?" Rachel piped after a moment, sounding like she was building up the courage for something. "Can I ask something else?"

"One more thing, Rachel. Then you're going back to bed, okay?" Rachel nodded.

"Can...can House come to my play?" Cuddy's heart skipped. She'd worried this might come up, and she knew that it would be near impossible to get House to come to Rachel's play, especially after everything that had been going on between them lately.

"I'll...I'll see, Rachel?"

"I really want him to come."

"I know."

"And I really want him to see what a good fairy I am."

"I'll ask him, Rachel. Okay?" She made it clear from her tone that the subject would have to be dropped for now, and Rachel looked somewhat crestfallen. "Honey..." Cuddy soothed, rubbing the girl's hair. "I promise I'll try extra hard to get him to come to your play, alright?"

"Okay..."

"Now..." She stood up, hoisting Rachel off of the couch. "Let's get you to bed, alright? You need your rest for tomorrow, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then. To bed we go. You and me both..."

* * *

Cuddy was just closing the door to Rachel's room when she heard footsteps padding up behind her. She turned. Richard smiled at her tiredly.

"Did I wake you up?" she asked.

"Nah, I wasn't quite asleep. Rachel doing okay?"

"She's fine. Just nervous about the play." She nervously rubbed her hands against her hips, debating whether to tell him what else Rachel had said. "She...she wanted House to come to her play." Richard's eyebrows arched.

"Really?"

"I told her I'd ask him."

"But you don't think he will." Cuddy let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head.

"No."

"You could just...drop it. Tell Rachel you asked and he couldn't make it. She'd be disappointed, and I know you don't like lying to her, but...it might be the best thing for her."

"I know...But it would mean a lot to her for him to be there. I know it doesn't seem like it, but he was great with Rachel, and she really bonded with him." Richard sighed.

"If you think that's best..."

"I don't even know what I think right now..." Cuddy relented, letting herself lean against Richard's chest. He ran his hands up and down her arms soothingly. "I'm just at the end of my rope...I don't know what to do..."

"Keep at it," Richard said. "This will pass eventually."

"I guess..."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

She found him asleep in the clinic, something that had stopped surprising her long ago, and she pushed the door closed behind her. When it slammed shut, rattling the doorframe, he started awake with a muffled shout, rolling his eyes when he saw her.

"I'm _in_ the clinic," he said.

"You're _sleeping_ in the clinic." He shrugged.

"Not anymore, thanks to you."

"There are at least ten people waiting to be seen, House. And the only doctors here are you and Jennison."

"Jennison is at least halfway competent. I think he should be able to handle a few runny noses and overprotective parents."

"Then you should be able to handle them just fine," Cuddy said, shoving a file into his folded arms. "Get your ass up and get to work." He stuck out his lip, doing his best impression of a scorned puppy.

"Are you mad at me, Cuddy?" he asked in a child-like tone. Now it was Cuddy's turn to roll her eyes.

"Always, House," she said. She turned toward the door just as she heard House pushing himself up off of the exam table.

"Interesting that the only papers you're shoving into my hands are patient files," he quipped. "Did you finally decide to just forge my signature and leave me out of it after all?"

"No," Cuddy said, sighing audibly as she faced him again, crossing her arms over her chest. "I figure trying to force this on you when you're acting so childish is pointless. I'll let you come to me when you're ready." House smirked. It was cold and unpleasant to behold.

"Then you're going to be waiting a long time, Cuddles," he said, brushing past her as he reached for the door.

Rachel's request still burned in her mind, and Cuddy debated whether or not to bring it up. It meant a lot to her daughter, sure, but could she really expect House to agree? Sure, he cared for Rachel; even he couldn't convince her that he didn't, but she herself certainly was not on very good terms with him for the moment. If she did bring it up to him, it would undoubtedly only lead to more tension between them.

But she had made a promise...And as easy as it would be to leave the subject untouched and tell Rachel otherwise, something about lying to her daughter like that did not sit well with her. It wasn't like Rachel would ever find out, and Richard had seemed to think it was a good idea to avoid bringing it up with House when it would only cause more pain for the both of them. But she'd already broken so many promises to Rachel as it was: she'd promised her that they would be happy together, that things would work out for the best, that House would be there for her and so would she.

All of these things had turned out to be untrue, and though she had never meant them to be lies, she realized now that promising them had only set them up for failure.

"House." He paused in the doorway and turned to her. She softened her tone as much as she could, trying to remain civil even through her own discomfort and anxiety. "There's one other thing..." She saw him roll his eyes, but before he could get in a smart remark, she interrupted him: "Rachel's play is this Friday...Normally, I wouldn't ask you, but...She wants you there." Something resembling genuine surprise flitted across House's eyes.

"Why would she want me there?" he asked, as if the very notion didn't compute with him.

"She loves you, House," Cuddy found herself saying, and the words made her heart ache. She caught herself picking at her cuticles and forced her hands down by her sides; it was a nasty habit that she couldn't afford to pick up again. "It would mean a lot to her..."

"I have plans that night," he said, averting his eyes.

"It's two hours at the most. You don't even have to stay for the whole thing. Just let her see that you're there, that you showed up for her..."

"I said I'm busy," he snapped, his tone suddenly growing harsh before he stalked out of the exam room.

Well, she thought with a sigh, she couldn't have expected much better.

* * *

Cuddy and Richard sat on the edge of the row, by the aisle. It was already getting crowded by the time they found their seats and started flipping through the program. On the cover was a crudely drawn dragon surrounded by fairies, clearly made by a child's hand. Inside was a list of the songs and the children appearing in the play, along with their roles. Cuddy quickly found Rachel's name and smiled to herself.

"You made sure she got backstage, right?" she asked Richard, a slight nervous edge to her voice. He smiled warmly.

"Of course I did," he said.

"And she has everything she needs? Did you give her the wand? She left it in the car on the day of the dress rehearsal-" It was an unpleasant memory already: the night before, Rachel had forgotten her fairy wand and had had to use a wooden stick in lieu of the real prop. She'd been convinced that she'd ruined the rehearsal for everyone, and it had done nothing for her nerves.

Richard placed a reassuring hand on Cuddy's shoulder. "She has her wand," he said with a slight chuckle. "She's got everything she needs, Lisa. She's going to be great." Cuddy sighed and covered his hand with her own.

"I know...look at me, I'm just as nervous as she is."

"Maybe, but you don't have any lines to memorize."

"I probably know the play just as well as she does, I've helped her practice so many times," she said with a laugh.

"Then Rachel's going to be great. I'm sure." He paused a moment, and Cuddy knew what was going through his head: he was wondering about House, but he seemed reluctant to bring it up.

"I talked to House," she finally said, deciding to breach the subject herself. His eyebrows arched.

"And?"

"And he said he couldn't come."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?"

"I'm betting on the latter...Still, it's probably for the best. Rachel might be disappointed, but I'd rather not have to deal with all that drama. Not tonight."

"Yeah..." Just as Richard seemed to be about to say something more – something reassuring and sweet, no doubt – Rachel's music teacher approached them from down the aisle, her pace brisk, a slightly anxious expression on her face as she addressed Cuddy.

"Dr. Cuddy?" she asked. "Rachel's mom?"

"That's me," said Cuddy, rising from her seat, her pulse quickening. The woman forced a smile; she was undoubtedly tired from keeping so many young children in line for this production. She reached out a hand. "Mrs. Bogart, right?"

"That's right. Dr. Cuddy, there's a little problem with...well, with Rachel."

"What's the matter?" Cuddy asked, shooting a look back at Richard. He raised his eyebrows as if to say that whatever the problem was, it was not his fault. "Does she have everything she needs? Is she missing something?"

"No, it's nothing like that. She's very ready to go on. It's just...well, she seems to be lacking some measure of confidence."

"What do you mean?"

"She just won't do it. I don't know what's gotten into her. She's saying she won't go on. Nothing I say can make a difference. I was wondering...maybe you should come talk to her?"

"Of course..." She turned back to Richard again.

"Is she okay?" he asked.

"I think so...Just let me go talk to her. Can you wait for me here?"

"Sure. Unless you want me to come with?" Cuddy shook her head. As great as Richard was with Rachel, she hadn't warmed to him yet as much as she had with House. It would only take time, she knew, but for now he wasn't the person Rachel needed to talk to.

"I think I should just go on my own for now...I'll be back in a few minutes, alright?" Richard nodded in understanding, taking off his jacket and putting on the back of Cuddy's seat to save it for her. Cuddy followed Mrs. Bogart down the aisle and through the door that lead behind the stage.

It was another bustling hub of activity altogether, and instead of the hushed murmurings of parents trying to find seats and point out names on programs and figure out the focus on new video cameras, the noises that filled the space were of children excitedly getting dressed in costumes and rehearsing bits of songs. Cuddy spotted Rachel almost immediately, sitting on a bench close by the door. Mrs. Bogart leaned down next to her.

"Rachel?" she addressed quietly. "I found your mommy. Do you want to talk to her?" Sheepishly, Rachel shook her head.

"Oh, Rachel..." Cuddy crooned as she, too, knelt down next to her daughter. She was dressed and ready in her sparkly costume dress, wand clutched limply in her small hand. "What's the matter, Bug?"

"I'm gonna mess up," she mumbled.

"Oh honey...after all your practice? What makes you think you're going to mess up?"

"There's so many people...I'm too nervous!"

"It just seems like a lot of people when you're up there. You just concentrate on that big dragon, okay? You won't even notice them."

"But what if I forget the words and they laugh at me?"

"Nobody's going to laugh at you. I promise."

"The other kids said I'm not pretty enough to be a fairy."

"What?"

"They said fairies are beautiful and I'm not and when I go out everybody's gonna laugh at me cause I'm not pretty like a fairy is." Cuddy felt her heart break a little at that, and she shot a look back at Mrs. Bogart, who was hovering a few feet away. The music teacher cast her a pitying glance.

"You listen to me, Rachel," Cuddy said, taking her daughter's face in her hands and making her look her in the eye. "I don't care what those kids say. Who's smarter? Them or me?"

"You..." Rachel said shyly a few moments later.

"Exactly. I know more than anyone in the whole wide world, because I'm your mother. And I say that you are every bit as beautiful as a fairy should be."

"But you have to say that."

"Why?"

"Cause you're my mommy. Mommies have to say their kids are beautiful."

"I don't _have_ to do anything. I'm a grown-up." A ghost of a smile made its way onto Rachel's face at that, and Cuddy felt a glimmer of hope rise up in her chest. Both it and the smile, however, faded quickly when Rachel spoke again.

"Is House here?" the little girl asked, her voice full of innocent hopefulness. Cuddy sighed.

"He couldn't, Rachel..."

"But you said-"

"I said I'd talk to him, and I did. He couldn't be here. I'm sorry..." Rachel began to tear up, and Cuddy's heart skipped. She hadn't known it meant that much to Rachel, and the last thing she wanted was for her daughter to break down now.

"Bug, what's wrong?"

"C-carrie Terrance s-said that..." She took in a hitched breath. "S-said that House wouldn't want to c-come bec-cause he knew I wouldn't d-do a g-good job..."

"Now that's just stupid."

Both Cuddy and Rachel's gazes snapped upward at the gruff voice, and Cuddy's eyes widened. There he was, the man himself, leaning on his cane in the doorway, one eyebrow quirked in Rachel's direction.

"Whoever this Carrie Terrance kid is," he said, taking a step forward. "She's probably an idiot. What is she, four? I bet she still wets the bed."

"_House!_" Rachel's exuberant cry echoed through the room, and she jumped off the bench, rushing forward to throw her arms around House's legs. He balked a bit at the sudden show of affection, but as she pressed her face to his knee, he let slip a small smile, placing a cautious hand on the back of her head. "You came..."

"There was a gap in my schedule," he said, looking up at Cuddy as he did so. Cuddy straightened up, her gaze disbelieving still. "And one thing you have to learn, Rachel, is that the majority of people you meet in life are going to be idiots. So you should only listen to the opinions that matter. Like mine. And your mom's. Though...you'll probably throw that piece of advice out the window when you hit fourteen..."

Rachel giggled, gazing up at House endearingly, eyes sparkling with affection for him.

Cuddy hadn't realized how much she'd missed this.

"I came all this way," House said after a moment of somewhat uncomfortable silence, "You gonna give me a show or what?"

"Yeah!" Rachel replied excitedly.

"Fantastic," he mumbled, still not making eye contact with Cuddy. "I'll go find a seat." Cuddy tried to step forward and say something, but no words came, and House had already slipped through the door. She sighed and turned toward Rachel again. The children were gathering by the stage, getting ready to go on for the first scene.

"You're going to do great," she reassured her daughter, and she gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You ready?" Rachel nodded, smiling at last.

* * *

Cuddy assumed that House left after that; she didn't see him in the audience, but then again, the lights had dimmed just as she'd gotten to her seat next to Richard again, and it hadn't given her much time to look around for him. She didn't let her thoughts linger on House, though; instead, she chose to focus on the show before them.

The stage art had all been painted by the children, and it was difficult for Cuddy to tell if that looming blob in the background was a castle or a cottage, but the costumes were bright and colorful, and though the songs were mostly delivered off-key, it was with such energy that it was impossible not to smile. And when Rachel sashayed onto the stage for the first time, nervous, but smiling and waving her wand like a real trooper, Cuddy's heart swelled with pride.

In the end, the fairies managed to defeat the evil dragon and save the town and its occupants without a hitch, and just an hour after Cuddy had sat down, the house lights were turned on once more and parents started milling about, some heading backstage to find their kids and others going out to the lobby to wait for them. Cuddy and Richard chose the latter option, standing just inside the glass doors out to the parking lot.

"I'll go get the car," said Richard, leaning in to kiss Cuddy on the cheek. "Knowing Rachel, she'll probably want to keep that costume on all the way home and I don't want her getting cold."

"Thanks, Richard," Cuddy replied with a grin. As he left to get the car, she folded her jacket in her arms and leaned against the metal door frame, eyes scanning the hallways for any sign of her daughter. She was just about to go back into the auditorium to meet her there when she heard someone approach from behind, the familiar arrhythmic scuffle of sneakers and cane on the tile floor making her stomach flip.

"She wasn't bad," he said as she turned to face him.

"I thought you'd left." He shrugged.

"I said I'd stay, didn't I?"

"Well forgive me for not exactly expecting you to keep all your promises."

"Cuddy..." he chastised playfully. "I'm offended. I've always been a fan of the theater. The dramatic subtext between the dragon and the forest gnome was chilling. I'd give the whole production about three out of four stars. Maybe three and a half-"

"Thank you," she suddenly interrupted. "For talking to Rachel...It really meant a lot to her for you to...Well, anyway, thanks."

"The sooner she learns not to take any bullshit from anyone else the better, and who better to teach her that than me?" She thought she heard just the slightest tinge of sadness in his voice, but she convinced herself that she'd imagined it.

"Yeah...who better?" Despite herself, she let out a quiet laugh. The crowd was beginning to thin out, parents and children pushing past them on their way out the doors.

"She's missed you..." she admitted. "I've..." She stopped herself. The words were tumbling unbidden from her mouth, not what she needed to be saying right now, or at all. "I've been trying to...to get her to warm up to Richard. He's good with her, he really is, but she...she just needs more time is all..."

"I am a hard act to follow," he said with one eyebrow quirked.

She couldn't possibly begin to express how true that was.

Suddenly she was remembering him, and not the bad times that had been so prominent in her mind. No, she wasn't thinking about the fights or the shouting matches or the sleepless nights. She was thinking about the kisses, about his arms around her, about the evenings when he would do magic tricks for Rachel, about the times he made her laugh, and about the..._other_ sleepless nights. It was like she'd forgotten about them, as if they'd faded like the memory of a dream, always just out of reach. And now they were all she could think about.

Now her hand was brushing against his.

Now she was leaning closer.

Now she could feel his breath on her lips.

Now her heart pounded in her chest, etching one terrifying word into her sternum with every beat: _love love love love love..._

"Mommy!"

She jerked back, away from him, forcing herself to smile when she saw Rachel letting go of Mrs. Bogart's hand and bounding toward Cuddy, still in her frilly pink tutu. Cuddy bent her knees and took her daughter in her arms and hoisted her up.

"Hey, Bug!" she greeted cheerfully. "What did I tell you? You were amazing!"

"Really?" Rachel giggled.

"Really, really."

"Where did House go?" Rachel's question got Cuddy's attention, and she turned, but House was already gone. She pursed her lips.

"He had to go home..." she forced out. "But he made me promise to tell you that he thought you were the best fairy in the whole play."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"You sure you want to divorce him?"

The sound of Richard's voice made Cuddy jump as she was coming out of Rachel's room, closing the door quietly behind her. Her daughter was asleep already, exhausted from the night's excitement. Cuddy was grateful, having been worried it might have the opposite effect, riling her up so much that she wouldn't be able to sleep at all. She rested a hand over her heart, letting out a breath and furrowing her brow in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. Richard's face was covered by shadow, giving him an almost menacing appearance, his stance rigid.

"House," he said plainly. "You seemed like you were having second thoughts."

"When?" Cuddy scoffed.

"You know exactly when," he said, his voice rising just a bit as he finally stepped toward her. He forced the volume of his voice down, moving away from Rachel's room and into the kitchen. The last thing they needed was to wake her. "When I pulled the car around you looked like you two were getting along pretty well."

Cuddy's heart sank. He'd seen that?

"I was thanking him for what he did for Rachel," she said. Richard rolled his eyes.

"Of course...of course that's what it was about. Rachel likes him better than me. I've known that for a while, but I got over that quick. But I never thought you would like him better than me too!"

"I don't-"

"Trust me, Lisa. That's not what it looked like from where I was sitting."

"And you could read exactly what was happening so pitch-perfectly from out in the car, then?" she challenged, her voice rising too, now. "Richard, you don't know what you're talking about-"

"I know exactly what I'm talking about!" he practically yelled, and he made a point to bite back his anger, shooting a glance over at Rachel's room for a moment.

"Richard, just calm-"

"If you tell me to calm down, Lisa, I swear..." He cut himself off, and Cuddy's entire body went tense and cold. She squared her shoulders, refusing to shrink back away from him despite the fact that her instincts were fighting to do so. He let out a harsh breath and placed his hands on his hips, and when he spoke again, his voice was full of barely controlled anger: "How am I supposed to know you really want to be with me when you look at him like that?"

"You think I'm cheating on you?"

"No, but you have a...a past with him, Lisa. You can't deny that."

"I can't change that."

"I know, but my worry is that the past isn't entirely _in _the past."

"It is," she assured him.

"If you'd been able to see what I had seen, the way you two looked at each other, you wouldn't say that." Cuddy stared at him incredulously.

"You can't be serious. Richard, I'm done with House."

"Do you still love him?"

"What? I-"

"Just tell me. Yes or no. Do you still love him?"

"You can't possibly think that I'm-"

"_Yes or no,_ Lisa!" he demanded, his voice rising again, fury and hurt mixing together in his eyes until they swirled with emotion in a way that reminded Cuddy of the days with House, of when they'd fought and broken each other so thoroughly that she wondered if maybe he'd destroyed her for anyone else.

She'd managed to convince herself that he hadn't until now.

Richard's shoulders slumped. "God...you do, don't you?"

"No-" He turned from her.

"Don't even bother...don't lie to me, it will only make it worse..."

"Richard-"

"I just need a minute, okay?" She reached forward, placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Richard-"

The impact of his hand sent her reeling backwards, his angry shout – "_Get off me!_" – ringing in her ears as she reached out behind her, fumbling for something to grab on to, to steady her on her feet. She grasped the edge of the kitchen counter, leaning her weight against it as she brought her hand to the side of her jaw, palpating the already-swelling flesh there and wincing when pain erupted under her fingers. She looked up at Richard and saw a horrifying mixture of fear and disbelief in his eyes that she knew had to be mirrored in her own gaze.

He took a step toward her, slow and tentative, like he was approaching a wounded animal. "Lisa..." he choked out. "Lisa, I'm-"

"Get out," she managed to croak.

"Li-"

"Get out!" It was yelled the second time, angry and hurt. "Richard, get out!" Her mind was in a haze, and the world blurred around her as Richard took his coat and left, obeying her command.

She managed to make it to the couch in the living room before her legs gave out under her, and her mind and heart raced at a frenzied, horrified pace until she could do nothing but hide her face in her hands and fight back a stabbing sense of shame at the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

* * *

When she saw House in the clinic, she took herself halfway by surprise when her hand immediately – almost reflexively – flew up to her neck, as if he was analyzing her every move, as if his eyes could pierce through the concealer she'd piled over the bruise that morning that still didn't quite cover it up completely.

"Why are you staring?"

"What?"

"You're staring? Is my fly down. Course I can't blame you, but-"

"I'm not staring."

She turned away, intent on walking off in the opposite direction as quickly as her heels and a good excuse would allow, but as she did, she couldn't cover up a wince as she twisted her neck in just the wrong angle, her jaw aching with the movement.

"Hurt your neck?"

She pursed her lips and avoided eye contact.

"No," she said. And it was halfway true, at least; _she_ hadn't done anything to it.

Her heart began to race when he reached out, brushing her hair away so gently that she almost couldn't believe it was him doing it, and she glanced around the clinic uncomfortably, knowing that people would talk if they saw. He stared at her jaw intently, gaze slowly decaying from curiosity to concern to fury.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked, voice so low and calculated that it was almost frightening.

But not frightening in the same way as Richard's had been the night before, she noticed.

"No," she lied.

"You're lying."

"Nothing happened, House. And it's none of your business anyway." She turned from him again, stalking away. Inevitably, he followed.

"Of course it's my business," he said.

"Maybe it was once," Cuddy spat, whirling around to face him. "But it's not anymore."

"Just because we're not together doesn't mean I can't-"

"House," she said, raising a hand to cut him off and dropping her tone to a low near-whisper, trying to pretend she didn't feel eyes on her. "Just drop it. I mean it, alright? It's none of your business. It doesn't concern you. Drop it."

She knew that he would protest; she could see it in his eyes, so before he got the chance, she walked away – back straight, shoulders squared – and left him there in the middle of the clinic doorway.

* * *

Cuddy braced herself the moment she heard the door open, leaning forward against her desk, back to the doorway, taking a breath. The sooner she dealt with House, the better, though even now, she didn't exactly know what "dealing with him" really meant. That would reveal itself soon enough, she supposed, and she could here footsteps approaching her slowly, hesitantly, so she closed her eyes a moment, squared her shoulders and turned.

"Richard?" she breathed. He paused, looking up at her sheepishly.

"I know, I know...you probably don't want me here. I shouldn't have come to your work to talk to you about this, but I...I couldn't let it wait, you know? Please just let me speak before you kick me out?" His voice was soft and careful, so different from the harsh, stinging tone he'd used the previous night, and Cuddy found herself deflating.

"Okay," she said.

"Lisa, I'm sorry." He took a few more steps toward her. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to...I know I can't say anything that will make it okay, and that's...that's how it should be. Because it wasn't okay. But Lisa, I promise it will never happen again. I promise..."

"Richard," Cuddy said carefully. "You hit me..."

"I know."

"And what about Rachel? After that-"

"Lisa...I would never..."

"I know, but..." She reached up to massage her jaw where the bruise under her makeup was still changing color. "I know you wouldn't."

"Will you give me a chance to make this up to you?" he asked.

She thought on that. Would she? Of course she would...but did she really want him? Of course she did...Of course, of course, of course, she kept repeating in her own head. _Of course_, this and_ of course,_ that, but those words must have lost their meaning somewhere along the way because they didn't provide anywhere near the amount of assurance that they once had.

"You're a moron."

Both Cuddy and Richard turned in surprise at the sound of that gravelly voice, barely suppressed fury boiling just beneath the surface.

"House..." Cuddy said, and she just barely had time to react before House was striding across the room, knuckles white from his hard grip on his cane, getting up close to Richard and narrowing his eyes menacingly.

"What are you doing?" Richard asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," House hissed. "Could ask you why the hell you came here after hurting Cuddy the way you did?"

"This is none of your business. You don't even know what happened-"

"I know you're slimey enough to hit the woman you supposedly love. Don't need to know much more than that, really."

"House, get out!" Cuddy said. "Richard's right, this isn't any of your business! I told you already, it doesn't concern you, so drop it!"

"No."

"What?"

"No, I won't drop it. I don't care if you're not with me, I still care what happens to you. Although you're making it really damn hard for me when you're apparently thick enough to still want to be with a guy who hits you-"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Richard growled.

"I know enough to know that you don't deserve her," House replied icily.

"House-" Cuddy cried, but it was already too late; Richard's fist cut through the air and connected with the side of House's head, knuckles slamming into skull and sending House reeling backwards, just barely keeping his balance. "_Richard!"_ Cuddy ran forward and grabbed Richard's shoulders, pulling him back as House steadied himself.

"Knew it," House said, a pained edge to his voice as he brought a hand to the side of his face. "Short temper. It figures."

"Both of you stop it!" Cuddy inserted herself between them in an effort to stop this insanity. "I will call security if I have to! This is ridiculous. House, get out!"

"Have you really sunk so low that you'll take a son of a bitch like him? You really do welcome all comers, don't you?" Cuddy bristled.

"And you wonder why I want to divorce you," she spat. At that, House stepped back, shooting the sourest of glares that he could at Richard before he limped out of Cuddy's office.

"Good riddance," Richard mumbled, and Cuddy looked at him incredulously.

"You hit him."

"It was self-defense."

"Richard, I don't want to hear it. House is a bastard, but you're certainly acting no better."

"I came here to apologize-"

"We can talk about this later, okay?" she sighed, rubbing her temples. "I have to go take care of this."

"It's already taken care of. Why do you keep chasing after him?"

"Just let me take care of this," she repeated, leaving no room for argument. "Go home. We can talk about this tonight, okay? Just go home..."

She left him there in her office, hoping to God that he would listen to her and be gone by the time she returned.

* * *

She found him in the parking garage, stalking toward his piece-of-junk car, obviously fuming as he searched for his keys.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," he barked. "A bar, Tuscaloosa...It doesn't even matter as long as I'm away from here."

"House-"

"Have fun with your boy-toy, Cuddy. I promise not to get in your way anymore."

"House, if you leave now I will fire you." He paused at that, and finally turned to face her. His expression was eerily devoid of emotion, as if he was so buried by hurt that all he could do was hide everything behind a stony mask lest she see just how much pain he was in.

"Fire me, then," he spat. And he got into his car.

Cuddy didn't move from her spot, didn't try and stop him as he put the key in the ignition and sped away.

* * *

Cuddy should have let him go. As much as it hurt to see him leave, as horrible as she felt for knowing that she was at least partially responsible for the pain she'd seen in his eyes, it was the smart thing to do. The safe thing to do. She should have gotten through her day, gone home early, hugged her daughter, talked to Richard and moved on with her life the way that healthy people were supposed to.

But instead she was at his door.

She stood there, motionless, for about ten minutes, thinking back on all the other times she'd stood here in front of this door, debating whether or not to knock and wondering if he already knew she was there. She thought of the time she'd found it ajar, let herself in and seen him lying on the bathroom floor, pills in hand, how they'd made love in the early hours of the morning, not caring what it would bring. She thought of the time she'd almost left before he'd grabbed her by the wrist, looked her in the eye and told her he loved her, so frightened, but so sure that he meant it, about how she'd smiled as her heart had warmed with affection and pride in her chest. She thought of the kisses, the wordless gazes, the long nights spent breathless and tangled in the sheets and each other.

She knocked.

He came to the door more quickly than she would have expected; she'd thought that he would be avoiding her, but he just looked resigned, worn, so very tired that it made Cuddy's chest ache.

"I don't want to fire you," she said wanly.

"Figured you wouldn't come all the way here to tell me that," he replied.

"House-"

"Let me guess. You don't need me to protect you. You don't want me to interfere with your relationship anymore. You want me out of your life. I've already gotten all that, thanks."

"I wanted to marry him."

The silence that descended after she spoke was heavy and stifling.

"I _want_ to marry him," she corrected. "Richard...that's why I wanted you to sign the papers. So we could make it official."

"Figures," House spat, turning from her, but leaving the door ajar.

"What, you don't think I would want to settle down with anyone after you, House?"

"No, it figures that your judgment would be so shot that you'd want to marry a guy who _hit_ you."

"I told you it doesn't concern you, House. You don't know what happened."

"I saw what happened in your office. He has a temper, Cuddy."

"You provoked him."

"And did you provoke him?" House hissed, gesturing bitterly at the mark on her jaw. "When he did that to you, did you provoke him then?"

"I-"

"Don't you dare say yes, Cuddy. Don't you dare, or I'll lose the last of the respect for you that I have."

"Things escalated, House. We talked about it. I've been with him for a long time, House. He's not violent."

"Sometimes you don't know someone at the start. People don't change. They just show you who they really are. Do you really want to be married to him, to have him help you raise your daughter when that happens?"

"I married you, didn't I?" Cuddy spat.

"And why was that, huh?"

"What are you-" He advanced, looming over her as he spoke, but she wasn't afraid. She was never afraid with him. Angry yes, frustrated yes, betrayed and hurt and furious at times; but never afraid.

"Why did you marry me?" His voice was soft now, more genuine, like he was actually searching for an answer instead of just trying to prove a point. "You've known me for years. You knew I was never a nice guy, not like you apparently think Richard is. But you married me anyway."

"Because I loved you," she admitted.

"Why?"

Suddenly she could see all the pain in his eyes, and not just the pain from this afternoon, not just from the bruise forming on his face. She could see all the pain from the night when she'd left him; from the day he'd come to pack his things and take them from her house, making it feel too big for just her and Rachel; from when he'd knelt down to her daughter and told her that he wouldn't be around much anymore before saying goodbye and ruffling her hair. All of it swirled in his eyes, coupled with pain from years gone past, from absent fathers and missed meals and nights spent in tears instead of sleep.

"Don't you think you deserve it?" she asked.

"I never did."

The look on his face when he said that...it was enough to rip Cuddy's heart out, enough to make her want to curl up and weep for him because that that moment, she knew he believed it, and it just made him look so tired, so empty.

It took her a moment to realize that she was kissing him, slow and deep and desperately wanton, like it was the last time she'd ever kiss him and she wanted to commit the feel of his stubble and the taste of his breath to memory forever. As if she was back in time, back on that night before she'd left him, when she'd kissed him so chastely, her mind already wandering to separation at every convenience, not knowing that it would be the last time.

She didn't think about how wrong it was, didn't think about how horrible it was to be doing this now when she'd been pestering him to sign the divorce papers for days. She couldn't. It hurt too much. So she ran away inside her own head, finding solace in the way his tongue flicked across her lips, how his arms wrapped around her like he was just as desperate for this as she was, how his muscles flexed beneath his shirt. All the little things she'd missed, without having realized it until now.

"I don't want you to leave..." she found herself saying, and she told herself even as she melded her body to his that she was talking about his job.

"Maybe I should..." he said, his lips just a breath away from hers.

"Don't," Cuddy pleaded. "Don't..."

She was undone.

This was not about the future; the future could wait. This was about her, and it was about him: House and Cuddy, Greg and Lisa, husband and wife even now. She could not fathom the concept of wrongness as they waltzed their way to the bedroom to a lopsided meter, she following his lead along with every beat of their hearts. There was no wrong here; wrong could not exist here, not in this warm embrace that filled her up from her toes to her fingertips and everywhere in between. There was no wrong; there was only want.

She wanted him. She wanted him to want her. She wanted to love him and let him love her, to make sure he knew he deserved it and feel for a moment like she deserved it as well. She wanted his bravado, his asinine misanthropy, his rugged, rough-edged soul that would cut anything that got too close without knowing just where to lay bare hands on it safely.

She wanted the man who had played with her daughter after her bed time and who had let her sneak juice when he'd thought Cuddy had had her back turned. She wanted the man who had fought through the pain to dance with her at their wedding reception, even if it meant having to stretch his leg out under the table for the next hour. She wanted the man who was a danger to everyone, including himself, but who had always made her feel safe around him. She wanted the man who had so much love to give that it scared him, that he chose pain instead because that was what he understood best.

He nipped at her neck, mumbling words against her skin that she couldn't understand, and she pressed her nose into his hair, smelling earth and mint. Was it possible to love a scent? To really love it as much as the person? Was it possible to love a familiar touch or a sound or word?

"Do you want to go?" he asked breathlessly even as they lowered themselves onto the bed, shedding clothes as they went. "Go back to Richard...to Rachel..."

"I should," she said, cupping his face in her hand. "I should...I know I should...but I can't...I have to...have to..." She sighed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling herself up to kiss him once more.

Their lips moved together even as they were joined, and held him close, flush against her bare body, pressing him tightly against her at every point she could. It was as if she wanted to melt into him, into his flesh and bone.

"Why did you leave?" he asked even as he moved slowly, languidly within her. There was no pretense now, and there were no walls to hide behind. He was pleading, begging her for an answer even though she knew it wouldn't help. "Why did you..."

"Why did you let me?" she said, and he opened his eyes then, and she knew that she must have been going crazy at that moment because she saw tears shimmering there.

"I shouldn't have..."

"You were too stubborn not to." She moaned helplessly beneath him, rolling her hips against his, just needing to be closer. "So was I...always too stubborn...always..."

Her palm went flat against the plane of his back, running down his spine, resting at his hip before she locked her legs around his waist and her fingers around his neck, pulling gently at his short hair.

"Why did you love me?" he asked, so softly she thought she'd imagined it amidst their sighs and murmurs. She opened her eyes then to see him staring at her, intent and focused.

"Because I couldn't help it."

She cried out beneath him soon after, desperately pulling him closer because she just needed to feel all of him against all of her one more time before she could possibly even think of letting it go. She pressed her lips to his neck and whispered soothing things in his ear as he with rigid and shook in her arms.

She didn't know when she fell asleep; it happened so quickly that she didn't have time to feel any regret. But she was only asleep for about an hour, waking up in darkness, enveloped in warmth. When she turned over, House was staring at her, his electric blue eyes cutting through the shadows to find her.

"If you want..." he said, eyes and tone both equally broadcasting utter resignation, "I'll sign them."

"Why?" she asked.

"If you want," he repeated, and he rested his head back on the pillow and pretended to sleep.

She slipped out in silence and told herself that she didn't say anything more because she didn't want to wake him.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

She got home late, and Richard met her at the door. He didn't look angry, as she had expected him to; instead, he just looked tired. Tired, guilty and...hurt.

"Rachel wasn't feeling well," he said blandly. "I put her to bed." Cuddy nodded.

"Thank you."

"Look, Lisa, I..." He stepped toward her, and she held up a hand to stop him.

"It's okay," she said, her own voice raspy and worn. "Well I mean...it's not _okay,_ but it's..." She couldn't get the words out, so instead she just shrugged and sighed.

He didn't ask her where she'd been. They hadn't even spoken since earlier that afternoon, when she'd told him to go home and relieve Marina for the day because she was going to be late. It had been so...ordinary; they hadn't even talked about what had happened, letting it slip into the past unnoticed like it was understood to be forgotten. So very, very, unsettlingly ordinary.

Since when had she settled for ordinary?

"Richard..." she breathed, folding her arms around herself. "I'm sorry about what House did..." Richard let out a humorless laugh.

"I get it, okay? He's obviously got some issues. I've known that for a while."

"Yeah...me too..." She wondered if Richard could tell just how distant from him she felt at that moment.

House would have.

"Is Rachel okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine," he said, seeming grateful for the change in subject. "She ate a little and I put her to bed. She didn't have a fever or anything. I think something's bothering her, but...well, she won't really talk to me."

"Don't take it personally," Cuddy said, trying to smile and failing miserably. Richard reached for her.

"Lisa...I know we're going through...something, but I...I would never hurt you. You know that, right? And I would never hurt Rachel. Never..."

She reached up and cupped his cheek in her palm. The gesture was so empty that it almost felt cruel.

"I know," she said. "Let me just...check on her."

"Okay."

* * *

Rachel's room was dark when Cuddy went in. Very dark. Puzzled, Cuddy felt along the wall for Rachel's nightlight and found that it had been unplugged from the outlet. With a sigh, she plugged it back in, and the room was illuminated with a soft glow. Now she could see her daughter curled under a mass of blankets, and she went over to her and sat on the edge of her bed.

"Rachel?" she asked, putting a hand on the little girl's back. "Why was your nightlight unplugged?"

Rachel murmured something from under the covers that Cuddy couldn't understand.

"What?" Her daughter poked her head out, but only barely.

"Carrie Terrance said that nightlights are for babies." Cuddy sighed and forced a tired smile to her face.

"Nightlights are for little girls and boys that are too bright to sleep in the dark all the time," she said. "And Carrie Terrance doesn't know what she's talking about. Richard said you weren't feeling well...What's wrong, Bug?"

Again, Rachel mumbled something into the blankets, and Cuddy reached out and gently pulled them away from her face.

"I heard you fighting," she said sheepishly, and Cuddy blanched.

"You did?" Rachel nodded.

"But I stayed in bed cause I was scared." Well...that was a blessing, Cuddy supposed. At least Rachel hadn't seen what had happened between her and Richard. Witnessing something like that could have traumatized the little girl...Cuddy didn't want to think about it.

"You don't have to be scared, Rachel..." she said, stroking Rachel's hair. "We were just...talking." Rachel shook her head.

"You were fighting," she insisted. "I thought if you loved somebody, you're not supposed to..." Cuddy couldn't stop a chuckle at that.

"Sometimes you do..." she said. And then added wistfully: "Even if you love them..."

"Like you fought with House too?" Rachel asked timidly after a moment's pause, and Cuddy felt something stick in her throat.

"Like House too," she finally conceded, only half-aware of her own speech. Once she'd said it, it felt like someone had socked her in the chest with the words. "Can you sleep?"

"Why did House leave?"

It wasn't the first time Rachel had asked the question, but it never got any easier to handle, and especially now, it made Cuddy's heart ache.

"We just...he had to go, Rachel...it's hard to explain."

"But I liked him."

"Don't you like Richard?" Rachel was silent. "Rachel?"

"I miss House..."

"I know, Rachel...I know..." She rubbed her daughter's back soothingly for a few moments. "I miss him too."

"Why don't you bring him back?"

"Because...Rachel, you'll understand when you're-" Rachel suddenly shot up in bed, looking to be on the verge of tears.

"You have to bring him back! You love him! You love him and when you love someone you have to be with them or...or..."

Slowly, as Rachel calmed herself a bit, Cuddy pushed her gently back onto the bed. But she wondered about the ending to that sentence.

"Or what, Rachel?" she asked tentatively. Rachel cuddled down into the blankets.

"Or you'll both be sad forever..." Cuddy stifled a pained gasp at that, never expecting that her little daughter could possibly bring such a reaction from her.

"We won't..." she tried to say, but her voice caught in her throat. Rachel said nothing.

Finally, the little girl spoke: "Do you love Richard?"

"Of course."

Cuddy couldn't believe how untrue the words sounded.

"Don't you like Richard?" Rachel shook her head. "Rachel..."

"Richard just put me to bed and then went away..." she mumbled. "When I was sick House stayed here and told me stories..."

"Richard tells you stories."

"Not like House...I miss House...I love House..."

Cuddy couldn't take another minute of this. She leaned in and kissed her daughter on the head.

"I'm sorry, sweetie..." she choked out. "Go to sleep okay? We'll talk about this more in the morning." Rachel visibly deflated under the covers.

"Okay..." she muttered. Cuddy stood up and left, holding back the tears until she was in her own bathroom with the door closed.

_When you love someone, you have to be with them, or you'll both be sad forever..._

* * *

Cuddy did a double take as she approached House's office the next day because she could have sworn that she saw him packing his things. Turns out her eyes weren't playing tricks on her; she was all too horribly right.

"What are you doing?" she asked. He barely glanced at her before he resumed boxing his things away.

"Packing."

"Why?"

"Thought I'd move my office to the roof. More roomy."

"House..."

He finally did look up at her, for real this time. She saw sadness in his eyes: deep, lonely, cold sadness that seemed to go on forever in the depths of his irises.

"My letter of resignation will be on your desk within the our," were the words he finally managed to drag from his throat. Cuddy stared.

"But you..."

"What?" he barked, suddenly slamming his hand down on his desk and turning toward her. "You wanted me out of your life anyway. I'm just doing what you want. I said I'd sign the damn papers. Just bring them over and I'll be gone."

Cuddy's voice was shamefully small when she spoke: "I don't want you out of my life, House..." Now it was his turn to stare, and the mask of anger broke down in his gaze, giving way to a deep sigh.

"You're more than he deserves," he rasped before going back to his books. He finally gave up, it seemed, on straightening the books in the nearest crate and grabbed his cane, limping past Cuddy.

"House," she tried to call, but her voice betrayed her.

_When you love someone, you have to be with them or..._

"_House,_" she cried again, not giving a damn about what anyone else though. Screw professionalism. Screw appearances. Screw them. He paused halfway between her and the elevators, shoulders slumping forward.

_You have to be with them or..._

He finally straightened up and continued on his way, not looking back at her.

It was all she could do to stand there and watch him go.

* * *

She'd made a long line of mistakes. It seemed that everything she did around him, because of him, for him...all of it revolved around mistakes. Some might say she could learn from them, that she could avoid them the second go around, but who ever said she wanted to?

She'd started dating him. That had been a mistake, but Rachel sure hadn't seemed to mind, and Cuddy wasn't entirely sure that she did either. They'd fought. They'd yelled. They'd woken Rachel up in the middle of the night and Cuddy had banished him to the couch or even from the house altogether. But he always found his way back.

She'd married him. That had certainly been one of her bigger ones. But of course, she hadn't thought that walking down the aisle (or walking down the hallway of the Justice of the Peace, anyway). She hadn't stopped smiling for weeks, and neither had Rachel. When they'd come back from their honeymoon, sunburned and mellow, the little girl had practically jumped into his arms and called him daddy.

What a beautiful mistake that had been.

She'd started fights over the most meaningless of things. Like she'd wanted it to fail. Like she'd seen the error of her ways and had subconsciously been trying to remedy the situation. Like an unsightly scar.

Mistake.

She'd pushed him away, further and further, until she couldn't reach him even if she stretched her arm out as far as it would go in the abyss that was their marriage.

Mistake.

She'd left him.

Mistake...?

She knew that knocking on his door now was certainly a mistake – it always was – but it was one she was willing to make, she supposed.

It took him a moment to answer, and when he did, he looked more tired and worn than she'd ever seen him. "You bring the papers?" he asked.

"No." He shrugged.

"Then why are you here?"

"I don't want you to leave."

"I'm not taking my job back-"

She stepped forward, letting herself in. And letting herself _in._ "Not your job. You can quit if you want. If you really want...but I don't want you to leave."

He paused a moment, considering her meaning. It only made him look more tired. "Then maybe you shouldn't have left."

"Maybe I shouldn't have...but I did." She stepped closer again, fully inside his apartment now and severely infringing upon his personal space. "And maybe it'll take him a while to get over it, but I think he will. He'll find someone else. I did."

Mistake, she thought. But a beautiful one.

She could pinpoint the very moment when he understood.

"Why..."

"Because it wasn't fair," she said.

"What wasn't?"

Close now. So close...

"Because if you love someone, you have to be with them. Or you'll be sad forever."

He quirked any eyebrow: "Who told you that?"

"Someone smarter than both of us," she said.

It was a mistake to kiss him. Oh, was it ever a mistake. A big, huge, cataclysmic mistake.

But she could survive a few more.

Mistakes gave life its flavor.

**END.**


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